


S.O.S.

by BecaAMM



Series: S.O.S. [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Blood, Blood As Lube, Blood and Torture, Heavy Angst, Other, Prologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecaAMM/pseuds/BecaAMM
Summary: You were used to be Ketch’s shadow, his little broken toy. For six years he used you, tortured you, mistreated you and stripped you of everything you once had or were. Not anymore. When you decided to hide from him with the Winchesters, you expected a harsh treatment and no hospitality, and you never expected to grow so attached to Dean Winchester.





	S.O.S.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prologue to the S.O.S. story I'll be posting in some days.

You gave the Winchesters one last look before following Ketch’s steps.

“Winchesters,” he scoffed. “Stupid American hunters.”

You entered the car, listening to his curses under his breath, ignoring him while you drove back to the BMOL’ bunker, as silent as you could ever be, but something made you look at him.

“Dean was staring at you,” he pointed and your eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that.”

You did. Dean Winchester’s eyes had been on you for the whole visit, watching you, daring you to do anything besides standing next to Ketch.

“You’re not thinking of talking to him, are you?” You swallowed down in response, shaking your head in denial. Arthur didn’t reply, and the whole way back was filled with silence.

“Go to our room. Wait for me in there.” He said as soon as you parked.

You complied without any protest. You knew what would happen, of course, you did. Six years taught you too well how he reacted when he felt threatened. You disposed of your heels in the corner of the room, reaching for your back, opening the zipper of the tight dress and lowering it. Ketch had given you the dress and the heels. The lingerie you were wearing too.

“Leave the stockings,” you heard right when you leant down to remove them.  “Turn around.” Your heart raced inside your chest as you obeyed, your breath stuck in your throat.

“Is there something you want to say?” You raised your hands for a moment, and the flash of anger and disgust on his face made you lower them again. You were mute, you couldn’t speak, but only sign.

Ketch called you defective.

“Good.” He nodded. “Lay down.” You complied, lying down over the sheets and panting in fear the moment his hand touched the silky fabric covering your legs.

“Sweetie, you know me better than this.” He looked up at your face. “You know you deserve this. You were flirting with him, being a slut. And sluts deserve to be punished.”

He ran his fingers on the silk stocking again and pulled the first one down slowly. He never rushed. Arthur always took his time, wanting to see you suffer from anticipation.

You only felt the cold knife when your legs were already naked, and a drop of sweat emerged from your temple with the light pace.

“Look at you.” He put the knife inside your snickers.  With a flick, they were cut from you. When the blade touched your thighs, you jumped.

“Shh.” He pressed his hand on your throat, making you stiffen.

You hissed in pain when he dragged the long cut along your naked thigh, closing your eyes as the blood poured from your skin. Just a little bit of force, and he would cut some important place and kill you. Sometimes you wished he did, it would be less painful than living by his side.

“The way your blood falls down, Y/N.” He chuckled. “It just looks beautiful.”

You sobbed softly to yourself.

“You bleed beautifully,” he praised.

The cold object found its way up your torso, finding the soft skin of your stomach and making little patterns over your ribs, clearly visible against your skin. Arthur controlled all the food you ate and your exercises, transforming you what he thought the perfect woman would look like. He cut your hair and controlled its colour. There were few things he didn’t control in your life. Sometimes, he even controlled your breathing.

He cut your bra open, immediately pressing the knife against your naked chest.

“I wonder…” He dragged the cold metal down between your legs. “How would you react…”

You stopped breathing when he reached your folds. Recently, he had innovated his methods. Spanking you all over until you were black and blue wasn’t enough anymore. Now, he cut your lips and folds open to see how long you could bleed, how long it would take for you to heal.  “If I just…” He frowned his brows in concentration.

She sharp metal entered you before you could even move, and Ketch used his free hand to hold your neck, strangling you and holding you down in his grip.

“If you struggle, it will only hurt you more,” he reminded you. Your mouth fell open when he pulled away, and you could feel the blood dripping down your skin as your cheeks stained with tears. He smiled at your reaction. You knew every single one of Ketch’s methods of torture because he used them on you before anyone else.

You remembered the time you used to be a fighter. You squirmed under him, used all your skills to protect yourself, but he managed to break you eventually. Now you were just the ghost of the woman you used to be.

He didn’t need to chain you like he did before. You didn’t even try to run away anymore, he had all the control over you.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you. You closed your hand into a fist, feeling your fingernails – covered in nail polish – dig into your skin. You had all of the ones on your hands, but your feet weren’t lucky enough. He had taken six of your toenails painfully, and even pondered cutting off one of your toes away, but had changed his mind.

“There’s a country where they cut the clitoris of the girls when they reach a certain age,” He told you with a light tone.  “Do you think you would look good like that?” You panted, thinking of the pain it would cause, and he smiled. “No. I don’t think so. You have such an ugly cunt, why make it worse?”

You swallowed down a sob, and he looked at your face for a moment, tracing the way up your belly button with the knife.

“I was thinking, and I’ve made a decision.” When the metal found your neck, you closed your eyes and waited, sure he would kill you. “Tell me, Y/N, how long has it been since we first got together. Raise your fingers.” Slowly, you showed him six of your fingers. Six years.

“You’re growing old,” he pointed out. “You’ll be thirty is some weeks, won’t you?” You tried to keep your face straight, not giving him the pleasure of seeing that you were still feeling pain. “It is time for you to swell up. I want a child.” Your breath quickened and your eyes widened. No, you couldn’t have a child. Was he insane?

Of course he was.

“For now, you will stop taking your pills.” You shook your head desperately. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t be thinking of taking a child to this relationship. “Sh, little one.” He moved your body so your legs would be spread, and unbuckled his belt, making you tremble when you realised what would happen now. The first hit against your sex made you jump and you let out a mute exclamation. He didn’t even care, slapping you several times until you reached the edge of pain. Then, Ketch decided he was tired of waiting, and pulled off his pants, positioning himself over you.

You closed your eyes, and the moment he entered you, the cuts burned all over, and the blood started flowing again, giving him enough lubrication to go on. Every thrust, every movement sent pain all over you, and you squirmed without even realising.

“Stop struggling.” He groaned, squeezing your neck. And you did. Ketch released himself inside you, squeezing your throat harder than ever, and you could see the black dots forming in front of your eyes. Seconds later, you passed out.

* * *

You woke up with your throat dry and your body sore and knew Ketch had given you something to make you sleep longer. You could feel your core aching and a mix of blood and semen made your legs sticky. Slowly, trying not to fall down, you walked to the bathroom of the room and entered the shower, cleaning yourself the best way you could before walking back to the bedroom and taking off the dirty sheets. Ketch wouldn’t be happy if he found out you had left things messy before going through your activities.

You couldn’t stop thinking of what he had said to you and rushed to the cabinet where you kept your contraceptive pills. They were gone and when you closed the door of the small cabinet, you saw your face. The last time you looked inside your own eyes was long, long ago. You were destroyed. Ketch had stripped everything you had from you.

You could take him, you were used to him mistreating you and torturing you, but you couldn’t allow him to bring a child to this. But was there any way you could stop him? Arthur Ketch could make anything he wanted with you, what would stop him from impregnating you?

Unless you ran away.

You looked at yourself in the mirror again. The purple bruises around your neck and the ache in your core mixing with the sudden burst of courage made your decision easier.

You would run away and knew exactly where to go.


End file.
